


Empty Union

by ForensicSpider98



Series: Love After the Fact [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Cultural Differences, All this stress is bad for the baby, Altean Adam (Voltron), Altean Prince Lance (Voltron), Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Aromantic Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Balmeran Hunk (Voltron), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Galra Shiro (Voltron), Galran Prince Keith (Voltron), Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, M/M, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Multi, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Olkari Pidge | Katie Holt, Post-War, it's kieth. keith is the baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:47:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22758028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForensicSpider98/pseuds/ForensicSpider98
Summary: Lance and Keith marry. Lance finally manages to extricate them from situation.
Relationships: Adam/Shiro (Voltron), Alfor/Coran (Voltron), Allura/Lotor/Romelle (Voltron), Haggar/Zarkon (Voltron), Hunk & Pidge | Katie Holt, Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Love After the Fact [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635043
Comments: 17
Kudos: 288





	Empty Union

Lance hears Keith's footsteps falter, hears a tiny chirp as they reach the doors to the throne room. He grits his teeth and pretends he didn't. There's nothing he can do right now except bear the brunt of the work.

The procession enters the throne room, Lance allowing his gossamer cloak to drag the floor behind him. His gold decorations chime in time with his steps. He recognizes a few of his previous paramours among the throng. Poor things. They’ll surely miss him. 

Lance has plans.

Lance is the last to ascend the dais, glancing to his sister as she takes her former place next to Coran. Lance sits carefully in his throne, hands dangling from the arms of his chair. His father reaches out to his quintessence, disapproving, and Lance’s gloved hands find their way into his lap, clasped just so. King Alfor draws away.

The doors open again, Emperor Zarkon and Empress Honerva leading the procession in, Prince Lotor following, then Keith, just behind.

The kit looks terrified, but also like he’s trying to look impassive. Lance’s insides clench with guilt. His eyes find a predesignated corner, to where Hunk and Pidge stand. The only people beside his family that Lance actually wanted here. Hunk is smiling, offering a thumbs up. Pidge waves, even as their eyes keep sliding to Keith’s smallish form.

Lance wonders fleetingly if Keith might like them. Hunk, certainly, since the Balmeran will keep him from starving to death. Everyone loves Hunk, anyway. Perhaps he’ll like Pidge, too. The Olkari can be loud and overzealous, but they can be understanding, too. Something Keith might appreciate. Lance makes a note to introduce them to each other as soon as possible...

The royal family of Daibazaal stands to one side of the aisle. Keith kneels before the dais, Shiro’s hand upon his right shoulder.

“Speak, Lord Yurak of House Kogane of Daibazaal,” Alfor murmurs, quiet voice booming through the room. Alfor commands a room just by being in it. 

Keith opens his mouth. The entire congregation must hear that shuddering, composing breath. It rings in Lance’s ears.

“I, Lord Yorak of House Kogane of Daibazaal, do hereby swear fealty to the Planet Altea and the presiding Crown. I give my life to the people, my essence to the earth, and my heart to the one who would take it.”

“Speak, Crown Prince Lancel of Altea.” Alfor leans back almost imperceptibly, all the cue Lance needs. Lance stands, slow and trembling. He steps forward, stopping at the edge of the dais, standing right in front of Keith. Allura stands just behind him, hand on his right shoulder.

“I, Crown Prince Lancel of Altea, do hereby accept your oath of fealty to Planet Altea and the presiding Crown. I accept your life, and will keep it well. I accept your essence, and will hold it dear. I accept your heart, and will treasure it always. I, in turn, offer you my life, essence, and heart for your own, to keep, hold dear, and treasure.”

“I accept your generous offer, as you have accepted mine.” Keith sounds like he would rather be anywhere else. He sounds tired.

“Your oaths are heard, understood, and approved, and hereby you are wed,” Alfor declares.

Allura’s hand slips away as she retakes her place. Lance removes his gloves and holds out a hand. Keith takes it, ascending the dais and entering the Altean royal family. Lance turns to Adam, who holds a small pillow bearing a circlet. He lays his gloves next to the piece.

Their hands are now bare to one another, and therefore, so are their hearts. There is no longer anything to separate them.

There is everything to separate them.

Lance gently lifts the circlet, settling it on top of Keith’s head, where it just barely brushes against his ears where it sits between them. They twitch and rotate, adjusting to the gentle touch. It’s kind of adorable.

Lance simply sighs in relief: it fits. Pidge had nearly throttled him when he’d asked them to modify it. Then they’d conceded that they should have thought about Galra ears in the first place.

“Behold Crown Prince Lancel and Prince Yorak of Altea!” Alfor booms. The crowd cheers, more excited for the banquet than for the marriage of their Crown Prince to some smallish Galra nobody.

Lance does his duty and pulls Keith close, one hand at the small of his back, another softly cradling Keith’s face. He presses their lips together as gently and sweetly as he can. Keith responds, his attempt inept, obviously inexperienced.

It would be sweet, if not for the reasons. Instead of dwelling on that, Lance pulls back, rubbing their noses together sweetly. Putting on a show. He draws the pliant Galra into a gentle embrace. That tail wraps around Lance's ankle.

Leaning his head to the side, Lance whispers in Keith’s ear, “Do you remember what I told you in the drawing room?” The Galra nods, muscles shifting beneath Lance’s hands. “The court is a den of lions. Bear with it, and I will get you away as soon as I can, I promise.”

Keith draws back, meets his gaze, but says nothing. Lance isn’t troubled. After all, he’d told the newly-appointed prince to trust no one. 

Instead, Lance pulls him in for another kiss, this one more affirming. The courtiers coo and babble. The illusion is working.

...Somewhat.

Keith understands what Lance kept going on about roughly five doboshes into the dinner. The underhanded compliments. The kind that make Keith seethe like nothing else.

“He’s almost cute. For a Galra.”

“Oh, by the Ancients! He has a tail! Oh well. There are worse things, I suppose.”

“It’s actually quite fortunate that he’s small, when you think about it... Not-not that I’m thinking about it dear!”

“He seems gentler than most of his kind.”

“It’s best that he’s the quiet sort. Don’t want those fangs scaring away common folk.”

“He seems surprisingly well-adapted to civilized society.”

“I understand he’s intersex. Freaky, but I suppose it’s for the best. We do need an heir after all. Hopefully they’ll put him away somewhere during, though. I don’t want to see that.”

“He seems very young if you ask me. Almost _too_ young. Though the Crown Prince is probably into that, if we’re being honest.”

Keith stares down at the weird Altean food. It all tastes ‘sweet’, or so he’s been told. He can’t taste ‘sweet.’ Has no concept of it. Instead, everything tastes like what he imagines hatred would taste like: tiny hints and aftertastes that leave him nauseous. He can’t eat.

Lance’s hand reaches down to where his own are clasped tightly in his lap and gently squeezes them. Keith flinches, forgetting his place for a moment, and the warm hand slips away.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lance chatting seemingly untroubled with some courtier who’s commenting on how the Altean garb “almost seems to suit the little creature.”

“ **He was trying to reassure you** ,” Shiro murmurs in his ear, switching to their native tongue in case anyone overhears.

“ **Of what?** ” Keith whispered back. “ **That he likes kits?** ”

“ **I doubt it. He was all but scolding Emperor Zarkon this morning. I was listening by the door.** ” Keith feels a little better at that. Perhaps Lance will be gentle with him, if nothing else. 

_Never trust an Altean._

Lance is an enemy in an exceptionally pleasing guise. His ears are adorned with piercings and clasps, tiny gold chains strung between them. His bottom lip is painted gold, his upper in blue. His eyes are lined with blue and gold kohl. His bright blue scales glitter in the light. Even his fingernails are blue and gold. Death in a luxurious vessel.

His smile is pretty too, especially when it reaches his eyes. The only people he seems keen to smile at are his sister and Prince Lotor, though he does try for his fathers. And for Keith.

The prince is definitely trying to smile for him. He never looks happy, though. Keith imagines Lance is disappointed. No doubt he would rather have an Altean sitting beside him.

“ **It doesn’t matter anyway. He’s still going to-** ” Keith breaks off, scared. His mating instincts, his drive haven’t even kicked in yet. As he is, his instincts are to run, or, if cornered, to lash out. Like any kit. Shiro gives him another pained look, ears down and to the side in a show of distress. Keith takes a deep breath, pushing down his fear, getting control of himself again. He cannot seem weak before these people.

“Well it’s good that he’s so young. He can still be civilized,” a booming Altean voice rings out. Keith stiffens, on the verge of losing his temper, when Lance raises his voice.

“The next person who says a single word against my spouse or our guests will be removed from court. I’ve had enough.” Silence rings out. Lance sips casually from his chalice, not visibly troubled. “Prince Yorak has married into a society that has spent centuries perfecting the art of killing his species. He is extremely brave, and for that and _more,_ he means the world to me. I won’t tolerate another word. Especially from you, Lord Lanval. You’re drunk. Go home.”

Lance rises from his seat in one fluid motion, offers Keith a bangled hand. Keith stares at it, a confusing mix of fear and gratitude making him slow. But anything’s better than being here. He takes the prince’s hand.

The prince turns to his parents, bows.

“Forgive me. I did not mean to cause such a scene. But we are tired, and shall take our leave.” Alfor nods, looking tired as well. Coran’s eyes seem to smile a little. As they head out, Lance puts a hand on Shiro’s shoulder, leaning down to his ear as the conversation begins to pick backup again, loud and lewd as they make their exit. “When you get to your room, Adam will bring you something else to eat. Don’t force yourself,” he whispers. Shiro has never looked so grateful.

The emperor isn’t eating either. Keith assumes something has been prepared for him as well.

He follows the prince out of the dining hall, comments and bawdy jokes hooted after them. Lance sighs, managing a small smile for him. "Come on. Let's get out of here so I can take this paint off my face. It's been driving me crazy all day. And you can take off that stiff vest. I'm sure you hate it."

"I do," Keith admitted. "I really, really do."

"Quiznak, me too. Let's get out of here. There should be some food waiting for you when we get there."

Keith smiles a small, genuine smile as the prince tugs him along down a series of hallways. It's only the second time that Crown Prince Lancel has seemed like a real person as opposed to some particularly well-groomed pet.

Keith likes this person.

**Author's Note:**

> Next time on Love After the Fact: Lance and Keith finally get to share an honest conversation.


End file.
